Chapter 2: First Fallout
East Celadon Police Station
If my hearing was unceremonious, my short stay in the East Celadon police station's tiny little holding cell was far less eventful. As I was a first offender and a native Kantonian, my bail was set to a reasonable sum of $5,000. By reasonable, it was way out of my budget.
Thankfully, my expulsion meant that I no longer had to pay for tuition or housing. I figured that if I could get a bail bond, then I'd have enough money left over to try and fish around for a half decent lawyer to represent me. What I failed to consider was that punching a respected professor of Pokémon really limited your options when it came to the legal system.
"I'm sorry, we're unable to authorise a bond for you at this time…" Unova Capital.
"Really sorry, kid. Here's some other people you could reach out to…" Persian Investments.
"Yeah bugger off," was the only response I got when I called up Coronet Holdings, the largest creditor in the area. It wasn't like I didn't expect this kind of answer. After all, most Sinnohans were diehard loyalists for their regional professor. Perhaps even more so than their most recent champion, whose ascension polarised the nation.
Having used up all of my available phone calls, I laid back on the rigid jail mattress to try and get some sleep. Everything happened so quickly, from my meeting with Rowan to the hearing. It all sort of blurred together, even meeting my hero Professor Oak.
"Well, they say to never meet your heroes," I muttered under my breath. There weren't any more tears, not after the emotional train wreck of my day so far. Strangely enough, the overwhelming sense of helplessness was soothing in some twisted way.
"Rough day, kid?" a voice asked from the cell just next to mine. It was gruff and scratchy, like someone who'd smoked a pack a day for twenty years. I peered over to see who it belonged to but it was hard to make out with the poor lighting.
"Can't get any worse. Not anymore," I responded. "You?"
A rough chuckle. "Can't get much worse for me either." The man moved closer, this time standing right underneath the ceiling light. He was wearing a dirty navy blue jumpsuit, covered in patches and traces of some dark substance. What stood out to me the most, however, were his teeth. They gleamed a bright grey colour, shiny enough to distract me from anything else about his appearance.
Silver powder. A highly addictive substance that was derived from certain bug type pokemon found in the wild. It was popular in the slums of Celadon, Saffron, and some parts of Vermillion. Called the poor man's Hyper Potion, I'd seen my fair share of it while walking home from the university at night. I could tell from the man's teeth and his bright red eyes that he was an addict.
"I'm Bernie, kid. Bernie McFlanners," he said. Blisters lined the edges of his mouth, not a very pretty contrast to his silvery teeth.
"Roth. My name is Roth," I replied. If I had met this man late at night on the street, the former me would have turned around and sped off in the other way. Seeing as though we were in adjacent cells, however, all former social qualms seemed to melt away. I was bored, and he looked like an interesting conversation partner at the very least.
"What brings you to this dump, Roth?" Bernie asked. "Never seen you around here before."
"It's my first time," I shrugged. "Messed with the wrong man. I'm paying the price for it."
"No kidding. Who'd you go and piss off?" he asked.
"Professor Rowan. I punched him in the face."
He gave me a blank stare. I silently cursed, realising that not everyone would know who I was talking about. Despite Rowan's fame, it only really applied to his home region and in the world of academia, a world that I realised I could no longer call my own.
"He's the regional professor of Sinnoh," I explained.
Bernie began to laugh, that same dry and rough outburst from before. Only now, being able to put a name to his face, it seemed almost painful for him to laugh like that.
"Hope you caved his face in, fucking northern bum. Give him a good ole' taste of Kanto, yeh?" he asked. With his hands in the light I could see him mimicking an uppercut. If ever there was a clear sign of my declining mental health, I found this to be amusing as hell.
"I don't know if it was worth it, man. He gets to be out there. I'm stuck in here," I said. "I'm stuck here and my life is ruined. He gets to go home, fly away like nothing happened. Like nothing happened. How the fuck is that fair?"
He didn't have a response, merely staring at me with an unreadable expression. It was sagelike if anything, his rugged and cracked features from living on the streets speaking volumes about his lot in life. Compared to him, my troubles were nothing. I had the privilege to grow up and go to school, yet here I was bemoaning the slap on the wrist that I was handed. A painful slap on the wrist, albeit.
"Do you hate the man?" he finally asked after almost a minute of silence. I'd begun to think that the conversation was over, but he snapped me back into it with such a question.
Do I hate him? By all rights, I should've hated Rowan. His bigotry goaded me into a frenzy, leading to my current predicament. Yet if I had learned anything from his classes, it was that he was merely the superior specimen in this case. He was the dominant genus, the pidgeotto who would outlive a small weedle like myself. I hated him, yet I admired him. In this game of bait and switch, he had thoroughly trounced me with the cards that we were both dealt.
"No. I don't hate him," I responded. "But if I was ever given the chance, I would like to crush him into oblivion."
At my words, Bernie's lips widened into a silvery-powdered grin. I could see all of his glittered teeth, rotting and yellowed underneath the coating of the narcotic. If I were to describe it, it was like staring down a rabid mightyena who'd been trapped and starved for days. Those were the eyes of a madman.
"Do you have anywhere else to go after this?" Bernie asked. "A friend, family, anything?"
No, I did not. Ever since I moved to Celadon from the slums of Cerulean, I had pretty much cut myself off from my deadbeat family and anyone else that life. While my peers partied their nights away I hauled bricks for the Vermillion Development Project—at least before all the work was outsourced to the Machoke Construction Company. Each dollar I earned was carefully put away towards my tuition fund.
Some days were harder than others. Once, a bad tumble landed me in the ICU at North Vermillion with a splintered ankle. Instead of spending my precious little money on Silph's industry-grade medicine, I chewed on oran leaves gathered from the nearby routes to nullify the pain. It was a poor substitute for actual healing but a far cheaper option. Sometimes I would get lucky and find a sitrus plant, though I had to be very careful not to get hooked on the stuff.
Weeks without proper nutrition were subsidised by my frequent ventures into the routes. It was hard enough doing it with an injured foot, but not having a pokémon really put a dent into my options.
"I'm going to figure it out. Somehow. I've been on the streets before, so I can do it again," I said.
Bernie just shook his head. "You don't know what it's like being a loner in Celadon, kid. Especially not these days. Nobody ever runs alone, not in Celadon and especially not in Saffron."
"I thought that the Celadon gang wars were dwindling down?"
"Well it's true that there's not much warring going on anymore. At least not since the Boss showed up," Bernie said. He rolled up his right sleeve to show me something engraved on his upper tricep. It was a single red R, inked shoddily and bloated from infection. It was the colour of blood, an angry and violent shade of crimson.
"You're in a gang?" I was genuinely surprised. He didn't seem like much more than your typical powderhead, thin as a twig and always chasing the next high.
"I'm with some boys who want to take charge of our lives. Since we actually want to get out of this shit stain of a city, no matter what it takes. Celadon is where it all starts. We're taking back this region from those filthy Indigo bastards. Taking fate into our own hands." He looked at me, eyes clearer than ever now. He seemed to be a different man entirely, the grime and the drugs merely a shell for the ravenous houndour underneath. "And we could use someone like you. A true Kantonian. A patriot."
I stepped away from him, shaking my head. "I'm not joining a gang. I've had enough of that crap up in Cerulean and I don't intend on squandering my life away. You're thinking of insurrection? You're all a bunch of stupid rhyhorns if you really think that Kanto can secede."
Bernie just shrugged. "It's your choice. Nobody's forcing nun to do nuthin'." He scratched his stubble. All the intensity from before seemed to fade away, as he returned to the senseless powderhead that I'd been introduced to. "Sooner or later, though, you're going to have to choose. It might not be today or tomorrow, but it'll be one day."
That signalled the end of the conversation. I was tired, drained both mentally and physically from the day's ordeals. We both said our goodnights and I stumbled over to my mattress in the corner. Sleep came easily, despite my troubled mind. As soon as my head hit the pillow that smelled like spoiled milk, I drifted off to the realm of dreams.
And when I woke up, Bernie was gone. In the cracks between our cells was a single note with a phone number and some chicken scratch.
Your bail's been covered. Call me when you're ready.
-B.
Celadon University, Student Dormitories
Six security guards, all armed to the teeth, escorted me to collect my belongings. Since I didn't have much in terms of possessions, it was a very short trip through the university. Given that it was unlikely that I would ever return, I made sure to linger as much as possible without irritating the guards.
They were all campus security officers, ranging from two to three gym badges each. For a non-trainer like myself, the difference in our martial and battling abilities were like heaven and earth. I knew that they could easily take me out with brute force alone, without even the need to send out their pokémon.
Only one of them spoke to me, a tan brute with blond hair named Oskar. He had arms like a geodude, bulging to the point that it threatened the material integrity of his shirt. This, and he also wore that Celadon Security polo a couple sizes too tight.
As my dorm was in the innermost part of the school building, we had to take a long detour to avoid Rowan's office and lecture halls. He was still in recovery, supposedly, but the rules of my restraining order prevented me from going anywhere near his place of work. I was still wearing the shirt from the day before, only considerably more wrinkled and smelling like a grimer smoothie.
"If you have anyone that you want to say goodbye to, then now's the time. Otherwise, you will no longer be allowed to return to school grounds once you leave," Oskar said. He had a faint Kalosian accent, something that he seemed to hide.
"No one. I have no one," I said. It was true, most of my time was spent criticising my classmates rather than trying to make friends. They were all the same to me, deerling-eyed and not a drop of ambition in their blood. Even the academics, who were notorious suck-ups for the professors, preferred to spend their evenings playing Dungeons and Dragonites in the student lounges.
Oskar just nodded, as if expecting the answer. I was grateful that he didn't pry, or silently judge me like the other guards. Their sneers stung like knives, more so than anything that anyone could say to hurt me. "Very well. Since you only have the one box with you, I'm sending Peters and MacGuiver home."
The two men that were mentioned gave their leader a stiff nod before heading off in a different direction. I noticed them instantly lighten up once they were out of earshot from me, smiling and staring off at the girls' dormitories. Since they looked to be at least in their 30s, the sight sickened me.
"Ignore them," Oskar said. "They weren't happy getting escort duty for a mild criminal. Honestly, they would've liked you better if you had murdered someone. Then it would at least be a decent story to tell at the bar."
"Yeah…" I used the back of my hand to scratch my nose. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I have violent thoughts."
Oskar just smiled grimly, not responding to my joke. Him and the remaining three guards began making the long detour around the school to avoid Rowan's office once more. With news of yesterday's events spreading like a wildfire, several students stopped and stared at the sight of me and my gaggle of goons.
"Way to go, Charlie!" someone cried out in the back. "Stick it to the old bastard!"
"Fuck you man. Had to make shit harder for the rest of us?" Another person screamed. I recognised her as one of the students in my Rowan class. She was one of the try-hards, the grad students who worshipped the Sinnohan like a saint. If I had a free hand, I probably would have done something extremely mature, like flip her the pidgey.
The rest of the way to the front doors of the university was similarly eventful. There were mixed reactions everywhere, from hoots of Kantonian pride to the outcries of plummeting grade point averages. One guy even threatened to pull out a pokéball before Oskar gently moved him to the side with his shoulder. I wished that he didn't. It's a far more serious crime to attack a non-trainer with your own pokémon, a lesson that this kid really needed to learn.
Once we were outside, two more of the guards peeled off in the direction of the security building. I didn't know their names, so they were Thing 1 and Thing 2 in my mind. Oskar stayed with me as I gave the campus one final goodbye with my eyes.
The poplar tree in the corner, a gift from one of the political families of Celadon and a frequent place for people to ditch class and smoke oddish leaves. I was never one of them but I tried to memorise the image all the same.
A student-run community garden that had been abandoned for years at that point, its iron fence left to fend for itself against the elements. The plants all looked untamed and wild, like a twisted garden of ivy and vines. It had a carefree sort of beauty to it, the kind that you couldn't see in most parts of industrial Celadon. If I had a camera, I would've taken a picture of it.
Students roaming around the campus grounds, books in hand and staring into their mobile devices. Silph had recently released the new Poké Phone II, a revolutionary take on communication on the go. It was a clunky, ugly brick of plastic that made the company millions in just the first few months since its launch. Billions with a B.
Perhaps it was the stress of it all, but my mind began to delve into all the ways I could take the Poké Phone, make it better. Maybe give it access to the radio, or allow people to listen to their own music. Slap on a camera and capture these moments of time…
Oskar prodded me out of my thoughts. He was a patient man, but he was also eager to get back to his actual day job of sitting in front of a computer screen. I took the hint, hoisting up my box of stuff and continuing on out of the school.
And thus concluded my time at the not-so-prestigious institution of higher learning known as Celadon University. It began with ambition, with dreams of leaving behind my life as a bum in Cerulean. Blood, sweat, and tears were shed in this climb towards the top. I sought to learn, to become educated, and to make a life for myself where I could hold my head up high as a successful academic.
Instead, I tried not to let my face show while scurrying away like the pitiful criminal I'd become.
Years later, I would return to the campus as a different man; a far wealthier one. I would donate millions to have a building made in my name, the Roth School of Pokémon Studies. I would have all the notoriety of a regional champion and the wealth of Silph Co. at my disposal.
Nobody would remember me as the kid who got kicked out for punching Professor Rowan, of course. Since the starry-eyed and naive boy with dreams of becoming a Pokémon researcher died as the pearly gates of his alma mater closed behind him.
A/N: This is Dom Noct with the next update of this story. I appreciate you all for reading this story and hope that a different take on the Pokémon World has proven interesting thus far.